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“Excuse me?”
“Dr. Limone. I’m a different son.”
God help me, there are two of them.
“Three actually,” he said, his voice deep and tinged with a bit of humor.
Oops. She must have said that out loud.
Thank goodness Connie chose that moment to return with the coffee.
“What can I do for you, Dr. Limone?” She took a sip, smiled at her wonderful assistant and mouthed, “Thank you.” Although the coffee wasn’t near as satisfying without the Baileys.
“I’m calling to apologize, on behalf of my family. Our father can be...difficult.”
So could his brother.
“But he’s our father,” Dr. Limone said. “He worked three jobs to keep a roof over our heads and see that all three of us went to college. While he worked, Mom managed the house, the finances and us boys. They got into a routine that’s worked for them for fifty-four years. Since Mom’s stroke, Dad’s struggling to adjust. He doesn’t do change very well.”
Not many people did. Kira understood that. But, “You know HIPPA regulations don’t allow me to discuss Mrs. Limone’s care without a signed authorization.”
“Please,” he said. “As a professional courtesy.”
In the past, on a rare occasion, Kira might have given in to a request for a professional courtesy—the unwritten understanding between doctors, nurses and the like to relax the rules of confidentiality a little bit for other health care professionals. But with all the problems she’d been having with her new boss, and with the Limones having an attorney in the family, Kira would be following company procedure to the letter. “I’m sorry, Mr. Limone. Not even as a professional courtesy. Get me a HIPPA release, signed by your father, as your mother’s health care agent, specifically giving me authorization to discuss her medical status and treatment with you, by name, and then I’ll be happy to speak with you.”
“You’re just putting me off.”
“What I’m doing is following procedure which requires a signed HIPPA release, on file, designating who my staff and I may talk to regarding any specific patient, other than the patient and/or his or her physician.” And just because she was in a bad mood she added, “As a physician you should be familiar with HIPPA regulations, Dr. Limone.”
“The plan of care is inadequate,” he yelled.
If the patient was still in the rehabilitation hospital, she’d be getting the round the clock care and supervision she required. “I can’t discuss this with you.”
“All I want is for you to explain why no home health aide services were authorized. And why hasn’t therapy started yet?”
Kira would be looking into both as soon as she could get off the phone. “I can’t discuss this with you.”
“Damn it!”
“Get me a signed HIPPA release,” Kira said.
“How the hell do you suggest I do that? My practice has exploded. Even working eighty hour weeks I can’t get everything done that I need to get done. I live three hours from my parents’ house. They don’t have a fax machine or a scanner or even e-mail.”
“You graduated from medical school,” Kira said. “Which means you must be a pretty smart guy. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”
Dr. Limone slammed something close to his phone, the sound loud in Kira’s ear. “You have no idea how frustratingly difficult this is,” he yelled again.
“Yes,” Kira said. “I do.” From a professional standpoint and from personal experience.
He let out a weary breath. “I’m worried about my dad,” he said, sounding exhausted. “He’s not in good health. I’m worried about him or my mother falling and getting hurt because they don’t have the help they need in the home.”
“I understand your concern,” Kira said. “From everything I’ve heard and read, I think you have every reason to be concerned.”
“Yet you’re doing nothing to ensure my mother’s safety,” Dr. Limone yelled.
“This case was just brought to my attention yesterday afternoon.”
“My mother is not a case, Miss Peniglatt. She’s a sweet, kind, loving woman lying helpless in her bed with no one but my elderly father to take care of her because you won’t authorize an aide.”
Kira came dangerously close to losing it. “It is not the responsibility of Medicare or WCHC, as your mother’s Medicare HMO, to provide round the clock, in home care. Family takes care of family, Dr. Limone.” It’s why Kira needed the large salary this job paid her and why she rarely had a free moment to herself. Family takes care of family. Kira had grown up watching her mother live those words. So of course when Mom needed care, Kira had stepped up, happily. Being the sole dependable caregiver to a totally dependent family member was not easy, Kira knew that firsthand. And she had little tolerance for family members unwilling to pitch in and help. “If you and your brothers are as concerned for your mother and father as you say you are, then maybe you all should spend less time threatening and complaining and trying to find someone else to do it, and actually go home and help.”
Kira was out of line, she knew it. But she’d reached her limit.
Apparently so had Dr. Limone, because without further comment, he slammed the phone down in her ear. Maybe it was childish, but Kira slammed down her phone right back.
The door to her office opened slightly and Connie stuck her head in. “You okay?”
No. Kira was not okay. She didn’t let clients rattle her. But this guy...and his brother and father...the absolute nerve! “I’m fine.”
“Mr. Jeffries wants to see you in his office,” Connie said quietly.
Mr. Jeffries. The CEO. Uh oh. “Did he say why?” Kira’s chest tightened.
Connie shook her head, looking grim. They both knew Mr. Jeffries never asked Kira to his office for anything good.
Kira strained to inhale, expanding her lungs to full capacity to make sure they were working as she glanced at the clock. Still not even noon and she was ready to call it a day. “When?”
“As soon as you’re off the phone.”
Kira stood.
“I spoke with Myra,” Connie said. “She told me they don’t have a Daisy Limone as a patient.”
That didn’t make any sense. “One more thing I’ll have to look into.” Kira made a note on her ever-growing To Do list.
“She said another certified home health care agency has been approved in her area. Wants to know why all of our patients are suddenly going to them?”
A very good question that Kira would find the answer to as soon as she could find a free minute.
“Do me another favor?” she asked Connie.
“Name it.”
“Tonight, at the bar, please don’t let me drink too much.” The way she felt right now, it was a definite possibility.
Connie gave her a “yeah, right” look. “You know, maybe if you let loose once in a while you wouldn’t be wound so tight and grabbing for your chest every time Mr. Jeffries’s name is mentioned.”
Kira looked down at her hand resting on her sternum.
“What if tonight, you get rip-roaring drunk?” Connie said. “And I make sure you get home to my apartment safely?”
Kira shook her head. “I can’t. I start administrative call at eight on Saturday morning.” If her week was any indication, this weekend would likely be a nightmare. “I can’t be hungover.” She eyed Connie. “Sheila’s the case manager on call.”
“Well that sucks.”
Exactly.
Sheila, who had been working at WCHC twice as long as Kira. Sheila, who had been considered for the position of Director of Case Management at the same as Kira. Sheila, who had not taken Kira’s promotion well and spent a good deal of time searching out evidence of why she believed Kira should not be the Director of Case Management, which she happily shared with Mr. Jeffries. Sheila, who just happened to be Daisy Limone’s case manager.
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_fb87bfd6-14c1-52a3-9743-fb72c6a395a9)
THIS HAD TO be the stupidest thing Dr. Derrick Limone had ever done. Considering all the crazy stuff he’d gotten himself into as a teenager that was saying something. An uncle in law enforcement had kept him out of jail. Pure dumb luck had kept him alive and in one piece.
But he’d moved past all that had gotten his life together. He was a respectable physician now, living a respectable, law-abiding life.
At least until tonight, when he’d followed Ms. Kira Peniglatt from her office to the very bar where he now sat...staring into a half empty mug of beer, contemplating the best way to snatch her away from her friend and calculating the possible consequences of doing so.
Desperation led people to do stupid things.
In the past, his stupidity could be blamed on a desperate need for excitement to alleviate the mundane boredom of small-town life.
Tonight...tonight was payback, not that he could ever fully repay his parents for all they’d done for him. But today he’d planned to travel down to the New York City office of We Care Health Care to get a start on trying.
Only a walk-in patient complaining of chest pain had made him miss his train. And an insane amount of late Friday afternoon traffic had made him too late to catch her during business hours. So when he’d seen her leaving her office building, he’d followed her. Like a deranged stalker.
She laughed, a loud, confident, bold sound that caught his attention every single time, as if there weren’t dozens of other people in the crowded bar. He glanced her way to see her tossing back a third shot of Southern Comfort with lime. Apparently she hadn’t stopped by for a quick drink before heading home, as he’d hoped.
The professional portrait of Ms. Kira Peniglatt, MSN, MBA, CCM, RN, Director of Case Management, on the insurance company website, where she wore conservative business attire, trendy glasses, and had her dark hair pulled back off of her face, had made it easy for Derrick to identify her leaving work. It hadn’t prepared him for the smiling, laughing beauty out of her stuffy suit jacket, with her long, wavy hair hanging loose around her shoulders and a silky white sleeveless blouse leaving her firm arms bare while hugging her appealing curves. Or that skirt, clinging to her narrow hips. Or her long, slender legs. Or those fashionable four-inch black, shiny heels.
Derrick looked away, shaking his head as he did, wondering if maybe she had a twin who worked with her and he’d followed the wrong Ms. Peniglatt. Because the very appealing woman seated two tables away did not in any way resemble the uncompromising, coldhearted female he’d spoken with on the phone that morning. The same woman who’d told him to get her a signed HIPPA form, and then, after he’d inconvenienced his uncle to drive out to his parents’ house to get one signed and then fax it back to him, had not taken any of his afternoon phone calls.
“Coming down to the city was an asinine idea,” Derrick mumbled to himself. Then he picked up his mug and gulped down the rest of his beer. Even if he could separate Ms. Peniglatt from her friend, after three shots of Southern Comfort and two glasses of white wine in under two hours, she’d be in no condition to talk business.
He glanced at his watch. Almost seven. If he left now he could grab a couple of slices of pizza and make it up to Mom and Dad’s house before midnight. Ms. Peniglatt had been right. Family takes care of family. The least Derrick could do, in addition to getting the home care straightened out to make sure his mother received the maximum benefit allowed, was to head home for the weekend when his dad needed him. That had meant helping his overworked receptionist/medical biller to reschedule and refer his weekend patients so he could close his office on Saturday. And finding someone to cover on call for the whole weekend, which hadn’t been easy.
Thinking of everything he’d done today and everything he still had to do if he wanted his new practice to be a success, exhausted him. So he stopped thinking about it. Slapping a ten dollar bill on the bar to cover his drink and a tip, Derrick stood, stretched out his sore back, and headed to the bathroom so he could hopefully make the drive without stopping.
After taking care of business, so to speak, he exited into the dimly lit hallway at the back of the bar, and walked right into... “I’m sorry.” He grabbed a hold of the dark-haired woman he’d almost knocked over.
“Don’t be. It’s not you, it’s me.” She wobbled. “Or rather these heels.” Leaning heavily on his arm, she reached down to adjust her shoe. “A few drinks and they’ve become a detriment to me and those around me.” She looked up, hesitated as if trying to place his face then smiled. “Or maybe it’s fate.”
If so, then fate was a nasty bitch to finally give him Ms. Peniglatt’s full attention, when he had a signed HIPPA form in his pocket...when she was drunk and of no use to him.
“I saw you watching me,” she said.
Half the men in the bar and a good number of women were watching her. She was beautiful to look at. But Derrick knew firsthand that a total lack of compassion lurked beneath her unexpectedly appealing façade.
“Dare I take that to mean you like what you see?” She raised a pair of perfectly shaped eyebrows.
What heterosexual male wouldn’t? God help him she smelled fantastic, classy, enticing.
“Are you mute?” she asked, scrunching her brow.
No, he was not mute. But like a dumbfounded idiot, he shook his head rather than responding verbally.
“I’m Kira,” she introduced herself, pressing her body to his to make room in the hallway for two women to walk past, so close he could feel the swell of her breasts against his chest, the push of her hip against his... Damn. She felt even better than she smelled. His body hardened with interest, with...yearning. Not good. He tried to push her away.
But Ms. Peniglatt would have none of that. Surprisingly steady after all the liquor she’d consumed, she skillfully turned them, pinning his back to the wall. “And you are?”
“Derrick.” His name came out coarse, like it was the first word he’d uttered in a decade, like he was a virgin who’d never been hit on by a beautiful woman before. Come to think of it, if he ever had, it’d been too long ago for him to remember. Between medical school, then residency and now working an insane amount of hours at his six-month-old private family practice, he didn’t get out much. When he did, he liked to be the one to make the first move.
“Nice to meet you, Derrick.” She leaned in to whisper in his ear. “Are you married, or engaged, or in a relationship?” Her hands slid up the sides of his dress shirt then back down to settle on his hips leaving a pleasing, fizzy feeling wherever she’d touched him.
He fought back a laugh. In all the possible outcomes he’d considered when first deciding to follow Ms. Peniglatt when he’d seen her hailing a cab outside of her office, he’d never once entertained the possibility she’d come on to him. Or that he’d have to fend her off or think of a way to politely turn her down, without letting her know his true identity.
“Because I’ve been watching you, too, Derrick,” she said seductively. “And I very much like what I see. I’ve had a horrible, train wreck of a week. But at this very moment, things are looking up because here you are when I just happen to be drunk enough to pick up a total stranger in a bar.”
He wasn’t exactly a total stranger.
“So if you’re interested...” She moved her mouth to his neck and set a gentle kiss just above his collar sending a flair of arousal through his system. “I’d very much like for the two of us to spend the rest of the night together.” She moved her mouth back up to his ear and whispered, “Naked.”
Naked. At the sound of the word, at the feel of her hot, moist breath as she said it and the enticing visual images that accompanied it, his body perked up in eager anticipation. Under normal circumstances, Derrick would like nothing more than to get naked with a woman as attractive and alluring as the woman pressed against him.
But there was nothing normal about the circumstances of their meeting.
“That feels nice,” she said, setting her cheek to his shoulder.
What felt nice? Oops. Somehow his hands had wound up on her spectacular ass, which did, in fact, feel very nice. He couldn’t help but give a little squeeze.
Remember why you’re here.
He removed his hands. “I—”
“Well look at you.” Kira’s friend joined them. “I was wondering what was taking so long. Please tell me you know this man.”
“We’ve just recently become acquainted,” Kira said, pulling away guiltily, almost stumbling. Derrick reached out to steady her, and somehow she wound up right back where she’d started, pressed to his chest.
“Quick reflexes. Good thing. I’m Connie, Kira’s assistant.” She held out her hand.
Derrick shook it.
“She’s also my best friend,” Kira added, in a sappy drunk kind of way. “Although she’s failed miserably in keeping me from getting drunk tonight.”
“As your best friend,” Connie said, “I consider it my responsibility to remind you that you’re not the type to pick up strange men in bars.” She looked up at Derrick. “You’ll have to excuse her. She doesn’t get out much.”
“One night,” Kira said sleepily, cuddling up against him. “My sister is home. I have a whole night to myself to have fun and do whatever I want and I want to spend it with Derrick.”
Why did her sister need to be home for her to have a night all to herself?
